


Her Son's Mother

by Eyrdamun



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrdamun/pseuds/Eyrdamun
Summary: He was and will always be her son. Even if he chose not to return home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for correcting this and helping me with it in general, [Brynne](http://brynne-lagaao.tumblr.com/)!!

As a mother, she couldn’t help but worry as her son moved out.

But a part of her understood his reasoning and she had always known, deep down, that it would occur someday. Emotionally, that didn’t matter. Her own heart was yearning to bury it and deny it from happening for a multitude of reasons -he was too young, he was her son, there was still a place in their home even if it was tiny, Saruhiko could move in with them instead, _don’t repeat my mistakes_ \- but she tried her best to see him off with a smile and a hug and a million reminders to call, and to visit, and to come back.

She did her best to hold back her tears as her eldest son opened the door and walked out. She knew he had snuck out other things throughout the day- his coming and goings were not as subtle as he probably thought they were- but the duffel bag on Misaki’s shoulder seemed so light. It was the only thing she saw him carry away, and it was too small to make a comfortable living even in the smallest apartment.

Did her son even take any pots, plates or utensils? 

She didn’t get to ask, as the thought only crossed her mind when the door clicked shut and her son was out of sight.

She was proud that she only really cried that night, in the arms of her husband as he bit his lip and voiced her objections to Misaki’s leaving, and away from the impressionable eyes of her children.

\--------

To be fair, her son called that very same night. 

She had been sitting- or standing, or doing chores- beside the phone all day after her son left. When it rang, Megumi let out a distressed sound and reached towards her as her husband’s face twisted to match his baby daughter’s cries. Huffing to herself in amusement as she picked up the receiver, she took the child from him and cooed.

“Oh crap, did I make Megumi cry by calling?”

“Language, young man!” she didn’t try to sound strict, she was too busy feeling relieved that her son sounded exactly the same as he did before he left.

Misaki groaned from the other side of the line, mumbling a ‘yes, ma’am‘, and she was certain she heard Saruhiko snort. After that, her son didn’t take too long to reassure her that he was fine, they were both fine, and that yes, they ate supper, and of course Saruhiko was as picky as always. She couldn’t help the fond smile spreading on her lips throughout the call- she had noticed that her Misaki’s voice was happy and light. Hell, she could even hear her son’s best friend sometimes adding a detail or two in the background to her son’s story.

It was almost enough to make her forget that they weren’t even high schoolers and already living on their own in another- admittedly, the next- city. And it had only been one day, not much had happened and it was getting late, so Misaki told her that he had to go. With a sour taste in her mouth at the approaching end of the call, she took the phone to her baby daughter’s mouth. 

“Tell your brother ‘good night’.” she made sure that her voice sounded as happy as she could for her children. Because she was going to be supportive all the way.

\--------

Time passed by.

More time than she’d like.

She would also like to say she hadn’t noticed the sky turn black and the nights turn into weeks as she counted the days until her son came back home again.

Sure, now there was more place at the table and more room at home in general for her and the rest of her family, but it wasn’t the same without Misaki. She missed having him help her when making dinner or seeing him playing with his siblings. She began chopping the onions with a bit more force than usual to convince herself that the stinging behind her eyes was due to the acrid spray.

She hadn’t seen her son in almost a month.

“Mom? Want help?”

Minoru’s head peaked into the kitchen. His mouth downturned when his mother turned to look at him.

“Mom? Is everything ok?” His eyes were alarmed as he walked to her side.

“Of course! I’m chopping onions.” She forces out a laugh, pointing at them. She put down the knife to pat her son’s head before continuing, “Don’t tell me you just can’t wait for dinner so you tried to steal some snacks?”

The sudden flush on Minoru’s face gave him away. He pouted before looking around the kitchen at all the food she had been making.

“Are big brother and Saruhiko coming tonight?”

It was an innocent enough question, but she breathed in a bit too deeply, turning away to face the vegetables on the chopping board so that Minoru wouldn’t see her expression falter. Her fingers curl tightly before she sighed and picked up the knife again, readying it above the onion.

“No, I just got carried away.”

Her son booed as he hopped in his spot. He then crossed his arms with a new pout on his lips.

“I miss big brother. And Saruhiko, he’s super smart,” he groaned as he uncrossed his arms in an exaggerated manner before turning to leave the kitchen. Minoru only managed to take three steps forwards before he took two steps back towards his mom.

“Hey, mom! Didn’t big bro help you cook ever since he was my age? Let me help!”  
The clack of the knife against the board was an almost muted sound- her veins felt too cold. But she didn’t want to worry her child- or worry any of her children- really, so she let go of the knife and turned around with the brightest smile she could master at the moment.

“No, no, Misaki had to help me because I wasn’t good enough-” she brings the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically “- I was a cooking novice!” She paused for effect before looking back down at her son with the proudest expression she was capable of. “But now I’m a cooking master and can take care of it all by myself!”

Minoru looked up at her with admiration in his eyes. He grinned, agreeing all too enthusiastically that his mom’s cooking is the best, and ran out when she shooed him away.

She looked down at her feet for a few seconds before returning to prepare their supper. Minoru would understand, she was sure, that she wanted to be selfish for a little while longer. After all, the son she taught to cook young was gone before he even finished middle school.

\--------

“You what?!” she roared into the phone. 

“No- it’s fine! I won a skateboard!” The material prize Misaki received did little to soothe the news of his hands and knees being scraped and bleeding. It didn’t matter that she had seen her child patch himself up after coming back home from a scuffle enough times that he knew what to do by heart.

“That’s not important right now! Did you even clean them properly?” She was even tempted to ask him to get Saruhiko to look it up online and to double check that her son had done everything right. 

“Urhg, mooom, I can take care of myself!” 

In all honesty, she knew that. Her son had told her in previous calls about how he was the one taking care of Saruhiko, how he did the chores, all about the part-time jobs and he even sometimes sent her a picture of their dinner. She felt like she should be proud that Misaki managed to do well enough at his age and all by himself. She was, of course. But she was more preoccupied with his wellbeing and wanting to see him again to be happy with how he was successfully living under another roof.

“Just make sure to drop by and bring Saruhiko with you, you hear?”

“Yeah, mom, don’t worry!”

She was going to anyway.

\--------

The calls became a little bit less frequent once her son changed part-time jobs. He told her that this new one paid better, talked about how much cooler it was and how even Saruhiko got into it.

He didn’t elaborate on what it was when she asked for details, but that was fine. Saruhiko momentarily took the phone to inform her that they were running errands for a cafe - she heard her Misaki yell, “Yeah, that!” in the background- and that it was open most of the day. 

After that, Saruhiko didn’t delay passing the phone back to her son, who started telling her other details of their day. They were small things, like the number of tricks he practiced that day and how many he landed, but they meant the world to her. And Misaki sounded so happy that she could imagine him with a huge smile on his face, the one he made that bared his teeth when he got a new video game about super heroes and saving the world. She allowed herself to believe that yes, her child was fine, and was going to be more than fine.

\--------

She found that it had become easier to live with the fact that her eldest son had moved out. Seeing the box of the things he had left behind didn’t bring out a desire in her to cry anymore, it was now just a dull throb between her lungs accompanied by a small rueful smile.

They didn’t call as much as they had at the beginning, but she knew that he was- that _they_ were- doing well. However, she could still feel bitterness on her tongue when she recalled how long it had been since she last saw Misaki.

They still hadn’t come for dinner after all this time.

Her husband had suggested that they pay for the boys’ tickets themselves so that they could spend a night back home with everyone. Yet, her son was quick to reject the idea, saying it didn’t feel right for him to take their money now that he was trying his best to be self-sufficient.

She had understood where he was coming from- she had been the same with her own parents when she left- but it didn’t feel right to her. Still, she left it at that, reminding Misaki that he and Saruhiko would always be welcome and that they could come by for any amount of time whenever they’d like.

There was also a second thing she noticed. Misaki would call at about the same time of the day, and their conversations always followed the same pattern; vague descriptions of their day at work, explanations of what skateboard tricks he pulled and what he cooked. Sometimes, Saruhiko would speak to her for a minute or two, others he would just make comments while her son talked enthusiastically.

She’d learn to take those moments as if they were her son coming to visit- it was the only way he would come home to her anyway.

\--------

Wishing her son happy birthday through the phone didn’t sit well with her, but it was what it was.

\--------

The sun was setting, she had picked up Megumi earlier and she was currently sitting on the couch as her two children and husband played in front of her when she decided to try to call Misaki for once. It had been long enough since they last talked anyway, and, sure, since she was a mother, that could mean just one day, but... It was now almost mid-November, Misaki had last called in mid-October. He had sent texts, although recently they had gotten shorter and felt drier, so she knew he was alive and kicking.

Just as she would expect from her own flesh and blood.

Picking up the phone, she moved towards her room to get more privacy for their talk. Minoru had explicitly said that they needed quiet to concentrate on their fighting game. She closed the door to her room with her foot as she composed the number. It rang a bit longer than usual, and when Yata picked up, it was with a string of curses on his tongue.

A string of curses that sounded tired. She couldn’t bring herself to chide him. It was also the first time he had opened up in such a colourful manner.

“Misaki?”

“Mom?” 

Somehow, even if she reminded herself that he could have easily just not checked the caller identification, the surprise in his tone had stung. There was something, though, something missing in her son’s voice. A note, a tone, that her ears couldn’t pick up anywhere. Before she could speak, Misaki started to talk again, his voice seeming to come back to life.

“Why didn’t you text me first? I would’ve answered earlier!” There was laughter from his end of the line. She didn’t really get why he started to laugh, louder and more boisterous than usual, but she figured he’d tell her if it mattered. Or he was just exhausted from work. “I would’ve had more time to prepare.”

She raised an eyebrow at the phone in her hand. 

“Why would you need to prepare?”

The sharp intake of air her question had invoked accentuated the silence that followed. There was a tongue clicking from the other side- probably Saruhiko- followed by Misaki grumbling something under his breath. He must have pulled away from the phone for a second, because she didn’t pick up anything of what her son said nor his intonation. She did, however, hear the shuffling of fabric on fabric and the dull sound of an arm falling onto a cushioned surface.

“I just needed to prepare what I would tell you, is all.” Her son really sounded drained. 

“Misaki?”

“I...” Misaki swallowed and sighed. “I skateboarded too much after work. ‘M tired.”

She nodded, belatedly realizing that her child couldn’t see her, so she voiced her agreement. The line was quiet for a few seconds, another unusual thing for their conversations, and she suddenly felt the need to see her son, to look at his face and into his eyes, to verify that he was well and that he would be we-

“Hey, mom,” Misaki spoke a bit more softly than usual. “I’m really tired. I’ll go to sleep, alright?”

Looking out the window, she reminded herself that her Misaki would tell her if something was wrong. She didn’t point out that the sun had barely just set. Instead, humming, she told him, “Ok. Tell Saruhiko I say ‘good night’.”

There was a dead silence on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, I will.”

He cut off the call as soon as the words left his mouth, so she wasn’t sure if the breaking she heard was from his voice or from the call ending. 

\--------

The following call was a month after, and he told her he wouldn’t be there for New Years.

Misaki sounded happier than the last time they talked. He told her about all the tricks he had learned in the past two months, about the food he made, and how he rearranged his sleeping schedule. Their conversation fell back into its pattern, a sense of normalcy brought back to her as if her son were back home. He didn’t mention nor hint at anything that had happened the previous time, so she decided to believe in her son.

If he didn’t say anything and he sounded fine, then he most likely was.

\--------

Their calls were like days as the seasons changed, she told herself.

They have grown shorter, but soon enough will grow in length again.

She needed something to believe in now that she knew asking Misaki to come home was a useless habit she had developed to end the calls with.

\--------

The next time she mentioned Saruhiko was a couple of calls later when she realized she hadn’t heard any of his background comments, nor his incessant typing nor tongue clicks. In fact, she wondered how long it had truly been since Saruhiko had made any noise in the background. After all, she had noticed her son had picked up the tongue clicking habit from Saruhiko and had been the one behind it for a while now.

And Misaki, her Misaki, had coughed. His hair made a soft ruffling noise- he was rubbing the back of his neck again, and his hair had grown longer, hadn’t it?- and he clicked his tongue.

“He’s...” For a second it sounded bitter, but he coughed once more before picking up where he left off more cheerily, “He changed jobs a while ago. He works all the time now.”

“Really? Where does he work?”

“Yeah!” The contrast of that exclamation followed by her son speaking softly almost made her miss it when he added, “ I don’t have to pick up after him anymore.”

“Misaki?”

“Oh, I almost twisted my ankle skateboarding today! It’s a funny story actua-”

“You what?!” she roared into the phone and her son laughed. Barely above the sound, she heard the Minoru’s footsteps as he came to check on her.

It was only after the call had reached its end and she disconnected it to go watch a show with her husband that the possibility of her son telling her such a story to distract her registered. She looked back to the phone in her hand and briefly considered calling back immediately and demanding answers.

But she had to believe in her son- he had made it this far all by himself and he would tell her if something important ever happened. Even if he hadn’t mentioned Saruhiko switching jobs, it must have only slipped his mind.

Her son could be a bit forgetful when he was excited over something else.

\--------

For a while, whenever she’d mentioned her son’s friend, he would falter.

Now it was fine, though. He would reply smoothly, telling her about Saruhiko working unreasonable hours so they couldn’t see each other much if at all before immediately changing the subject to something else.

But his voice wasn’t sour, so it must have been an acceptable subject for her to breech. 

She believed in that reasoning as she tapped her feet, and her son chattered across the line about some trick he saw online and successfully recreated. She tried to listen attentively- Misaki was slowly getting better at explaining, it made her proud- but he still used some terms she didn’t know and would then spend too long defining if she asked. She leaned her head against the wall, and her brows furrowed in concentration. She could only remember so much and he was talking too fast.

She was glad though. Her son had found something that captivated him.

And it was also a second, and more than welcomed, part of her son’s life she could ask about.

\--------

She didn’t ask him to come for New Years anymore.   Megumi and Minoru, though they had grown bigger, would always try to make a place at the table just in case Misaki changed his mind and came at the last minute.

Her husband always bought a bit more food just in case.

\--------

About four years after the day Misaki left, on December, she suddenly stopped receiving texts from him.

That was abnormal. 

It hadn’t been time for him to call, so that was fine, but her Misaki didn’t spend so much time without sending at least one message, one picture of a supper he prepared or food he ordered. She felt worry grip her heart and tried to call him. It didn’t even ring once, and she felt the tension that had wound up in her bones deflate. She didn’t give him enough time to greet her.

“Misaki, what happened?”

She heard the wheels of his skateboard come to a halt on what sounded like asphalt, and she felt an intense desire to see her son and ask him to show her his tricks.  
“Something came up. Sorry, mom.” There wasn’t much emotion behind his words, they were more like jumbled sounds that he spouted in a hurry. “I’m looking for someone right now- I’ll call you later.”

“Alright.”

She had to believe in her son.

\--------

He did call back.

A few days later, a few days of absolutely no communication, with a sob tearing its way out of his throat. The sound made her eyes widen and her heart clench- she wanted nothing more than to hold him close and to lull all his worries away.

“I’ll be fine,” he managed to choke out, “I promised I’d call, right?”

She had hoped it would’ve been a more joyous occasion.

“I lost...” He was struggling, searching for words, she knew. She waited patiently for him to find them because it was the only thing she could do at the moment. “I lost two important friends.”

_Two friends...?_ She wanted to say more, to ask more, but the realization hit her.

She didn’t know much about her son’s life, did she?

\--------

For almost a year, contact with Misaki was sparse. And when he did call, or when he did answer the phone, he sounded more tired than she had ever heard. Sometimes his words would slur together, and he barely found the effort to make more than a sound to show that he was listening.

She knew how to comfort her son once, years ago.

Now, she was at a loss, but she wanted dearly to learn again. She feared, she truly feared that it had become too late for that.

She would try new things, talk about her day, or Megumi, or Minoru, or her husband’s- she even tried telling her son about the small animals she would see during the day. She remembered him liking them. Some days it worked better than others, and her son would let out the smallest of chuckles.

Those times gave her some hope.

\--------

That October, Misaki called.

His voice felt energized, and the sound would vibrate in her skull and overjoy her in turn. The life in his laugh as he greeted her, as he told her about his day. He was swift about it, almost as swift as the skateboard trick he landed that day.

She even found herself laughing along with her son’s jokes, no matter how lame they would have been in any other situation. She didn’t know what came up, what made her son wake up from his stupor, but, at the moment, she wouldn’t want to question it. She didn’t want this happiness to be taken away from him.

When the call ended, the emotional high became too much, culminating into tears on her lashes that fell down her cheeks. She sat on the bed, her phone clutched between her hands and a weak smile on her lips. Hearing the door open, and her husband walk in, she stood up and flung her arms around him.

He was alarmed, but his fear melted away as she told him what happened.

He buried his face in her hair and laughed alongside her.

\--------

The first time after four- _five_ \- years that she saw Misaki in the flesh, she wanted to burst out in tears from the happiness. He was walking Minoru home from school, and they were talking animatedly as they approached. Seeing her sons wearing matching grins, she couldn’t help but be a little glad to know that there were still calls that Misaki would answer to, calls that would bring him home even if for a second.

He was the first to see her, and his grin faltered for a second. It was almost imperceivable, and had it not been by her eldest averting his eyes, she wouldn’t have noticed. But Misaki waved at her, lightly smacking his brother’s arm as they fastened their pace lightly to greet her.  He must have been as surprised as she was by the difference time had made.

Misaki had not grown much taller- she chuckled- but still enough to be an inch or two taller than her. The baby fat still clung to his cheeks, and he looked so young despite the effort and stress that came with living alone. 

If his hair had been longer, she mused, it would almost look like he had never left at all.

Almost.

She felt like she had missed so much, and the stinging behind her eyes now came from the ache of the lost years. A part of her wanted to pull her child into her arms to make up for the lost time, yet her arms remained still as stone by her side. However, she didn’t want to think about it, not about how Misaki would probably not welcome unwarranted affection, and resigned herself for chiding him about the fight he clearly’d had with Saruhiko.

After Misaki had left and she entered the house to follow after Minoru, they settled at the table with Megumi.

As she made sure they didn’t eat enough to lose all appetite before supper, her middle child told her that Misaki had come to help him that afternoon at school. He was having trouble with an assignment, he said, but her intuition told her that her eldest saved his brother from a fight. The way her youngest boy flushed when she had offered to help him study whichever subject he was struggling in gave him away.

Megumi, sitting in front of her sibling at the table, flung her small hands up in the air and complained that it wasn’t fair that Misaki hadn’t come to see her too. Whining that the last time she talked to him had been a week ago over the phone, she pouted down at her afternoon snack.

\--------

“Oh, yeah,” Misaki told her between bites of his supper. “ Anna wanted to make chocolates together tomorrow.”

“Anna?” She never heard that name before.

“Yeah, said she gotta spend time with her ‘big brother’, ah...” He was laughing, and he must have let go of his chopsticks since she heard them clattering on the plate. There was some shuffling from the other side. “It’s embarrassing, but I’m happy she feels that close to me.”

“Do you?” She tried to tease- she had no idea who this Anna was, no idea when they met. But it can’t have been that long ago.

“Of course! I’m proud of even being allowed to think of her as my little sister!” He smacked his chest, with more strength than he had meant if the groan that followed soon after was any indication.

It was a simple name, one easy to remember. She made note to ask about her in future conversations.

\--------

Her unfounded belief of their calls being like the season proved true.

Their winter had been too long, but it finally thawed to give way to spring.

Misaki had found a job at a sports store, and he taught his boss’ children how to skateboard sometimes. There was also Kamamoto, a childhood friend he had met again a couple of years back, Kusanagi, a bar owner at Misaki’s local hangout- which she had been very disapproving of; he’s been of drinking age for almost one year, and already has a local bar hangout?- and last, but definitely not least, Anna.

Anna, whom she had learned was a young girl that Misaki met years prior and who had given her son the resilience to stand up again and blossom. A small lady she had never met, yet still felt indebted to.

There were others, of course. Every time they’d talk, Misaki would mention someone new that he’d met years ago. And each time, the knowledge was bittersweet- it always meant that throughout the years, he had made a new friend but never found it in him to tell her.

It made her feel inadequate.

She hadn’t changed, she still tried her best, and maybe now things worked because Misaki found the strength to give her another opportunity to be a mother to him. Although she was conscious of that view being too optimistic of their situation, she wanted to have faith in it anyway.

\---------

Over the phone, he told her about the two friends he had lost the previous year. When he spoke about them, it was vague and his voice was soft. 

There was hurt and fondness mixed in, and while she still didn’t really know what they had meant to her son, she could still feel that the wound was gaping. She didn’t want to press it, so she let him go at his own pace. He’d say the things he would need to say and keep the others for another day.

It was obvious now that she had been right in believing that her son would tell her if he ever saw the need arise.

\--------

“Saru’s boss is unreasonable.” They both had been cooking when Misaki called. It was a funny coincidence since they had both been stir-frying something too. “Once, he gave him this bullshit job, right?”

“Right...?” She stirred the contents over the stove with a spatula, and she could hear her son doing the same across the line. It made her feel connected to her child- as if they were sharing a small kitchenette again like in older times.

“Yeah, and...” Misaki huffed and stopped to think about his words for a second. “Like, I had another job to do for Anna and I had to go help him.”

“And Saruhiko actually let you help him?”

“Heh, hell yeah.” She could just imagine her son standing up straight and puffing his chest. “He even asked for it! In an underhanded way, but still counts.”

“Saruhiko, willingly asking for help?”

“I know, right?”

\--------

“Saruhiko said that we can go meet you next week.”- She accidentally let out a gasp that her son didn’t seem to know what to make of- “We can not go, or go another day if it’s better.”

Her fingers twitched on the phone, and her objection to her son’s question was a bit louder and more desperate than what she had meant it to be. His hearing was almost as good as her own, and he had been making an obvious effort to observe and listen to others. Even if he didn’t know what to make of the information, he once told her that it was still good to know.

“Mom?”

“If you postpone it, I will personally go and drag you and Saruhiko here myself!”

The guffaw that her son replied with alleviated many of her insecurities all at once.

\--------

The top of his head still smelled the same as it always had, but she briefly wondered if she had been imagining it. If she had been trying to find a way to reconcile the grown man in front of her with the child she had nurtured for years. 

She felt like she had missed so much, and the stinging behind her eyes now cam  
e from the ache of the lost years. 

After one last squeeze, she turned to greet Saruhiko.

Finally, the fact that she could ask her son to come over for dinner, and he would actually come to her home, sunk in as reality. 

 

\--------

Misaki swayed a bit awkwardly from foot to foot as he was welcomed home for the first time in years by his family. She thought she knew better than to expect anything else, but it seemed a part of her had still hoped.

\--------

When she washed three pairs of clothes that stunk of cola- Megumi had clung to Misaki without care for how drenched his clothes were after he and Saruhiko had sprayed each other with the soda- it felt like she had travelled back in time. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t the case.

Things were different now. Her guts told her they were changing for the better. She still had questions and wounds to stitch on her and her son, but it could wait for now until the right time.

\--------

And that right time is two weeks later, when Misaki alone comes to visit.

They stand in the kitchen, that she finally finds it in her to prod what thorn ails his side. And, at first, just as she would expect of her own son, he laughs over his mug of tea. His words try to deflect her worries, but his shoulders are slightly tensed, and his eyes flickering. 

She finds out then that Misaki was still a terrible liar in person.

She tries to make her demeanor as welcoming as possible- even if it comes out that he doesn’t really want to be hers to call her son, her baby- and asks again. And she’s as good as hiding what she feels as he is, or so the case must be, since his Adam's apple wobbles as he swallows and his fingers tighten around his mug as he stutters.  
 “It’s fine.” There’s a pause and the disbelief on her face speaks louder than any of the words racing through her head because her son soon adds, “It’ll be fine.”

Misaki looks down at his drink, his head bowed as if he were trying to apologize to his mother for not answering. Yet the only thing she can think is that she should be the one begging for forgiveness, that she should be the one to repent now that she can’t make him feel safe enough to answer and to show weakness.

Steeling herself, she moves closer and stands besides her child so that their shoulders lightly bump each other.

“But it’s not fine now.” There’s comfort in the way her voice doesn’t waver. She takes as much as she can from it. Misaki is standing in her home not due to her, nor due to a stiffing sense of familial loyalty, but due to the kindness of the strangers in his life who had patched his wounds as best as they could when she wasn’t there. And she fears she might not get another chance to salvage what they can now and lose more later.

The clinging sound of the cup being put down on the counter is too loud, and the volume of her son’s shuddering breath makes her wish she were deaf. She can hear the tears accumulating in his lashes in the way he gulps, and she dares to steal a glance at him. His shoulders are hunched and he blinks rapidly, as he seems to make an effort to find the words. The sight stings and aches, so she shifts some of her weight to lean it against his shoulder, hoping that it would be solace enough for her child.

She tries her best to remind herself that she probably doesn’t feel like home, like his home, anymore.

He leans his head against her, and she’s glad, ecstatic even, that a part of him still feels like her son. Although it only lasts a couple of seconds before he is standing straight again and moving towards the hallway. His shoulders are still tense, and she knows he is just doing it to avoid looking at her as he speaks with a wavering voice about the isolation he felt. She feels her heart contract and freeze as she rushes to his side, hesitation stopping her dead in her tracks when she wonders if she even has the right.

But when he sniffs, she throws her insecurities out of the window to put a hand on his back and turn her son towards her. He automatically buries his head on the crook of her neck and shoulder as she rubs circles on his back, her voice a lullaby. It breaks as she tries her best to be the mother that she hadn’t been in years, and her own tears start to spill as she mirrors his previous actions. With her head leaning on his shaking shoulder, she squeezes him harder.

“Mom, thanks...”

Hugging back, Misaki whispers. It’s low and soft, but her ears are so sharp she picks up all the emotion behind his words anyway. The ache in her chest that is blocking her throat is still there, though now it’s more akin to warmth than the burn of ice.

“Any time, sweetie.”

She still wants to say that she should be the one thanking him for giving her another chance, for accepting her slowly back into his life. But she knows that she’ll get another opportunity and what matters right now is how she feels her son, now a young man, relax in her arms.


End file.
